I Like You, You Like Me
by HoneySweetSins
Summary: Canada hadn't been sure what would happen for the few hours that he'd left them alone- But it seems things hadn't turned out so bad. What with them being mortal enemies and all. RussiaxAmerica


Coffee was a wonderful thing to have in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, America found himself thinking, tapping his fingers against the ringed wood and shooting a glare at the little polar bear seated on the counter-top. The polar bear didn't seem to care, much too preoccupied with his cat nap to even notice the burning stare directed at him.

"I like that you can't tell when Matvey is lying~".

He twisted back in his seat to face the table, eye twitching as he took in the hulking Russian on the other side, who looked as equally tired and bored as he.

"I like that you can't tell when _I'm _lying to you".

"I like that you think you can lie to me".

Now it was Alfred's turn to think- Russia had taken nearly two minutes to come up with the one about Mattie, after being trumped by his comment before that. He hadn't known he could hold such a... Passive, conversation with Ivan for so long.

And he had Mattie to blame.

Another twitch, and he replied.

"I like that you lie to everyone you come in contact with".

Ivan stared at him balefully, a rumbling of his infamous 'Kolkolkol's echoing through that massive chest of his. His purple eyes seemed even darker with the half-circle bruises beneath them, from lack of sleep.

"I like that you're so oblivious you could be murdered in your sleep".

Oh, Matt, was this supposed to make them friends? America found himself despairing of his brother's return, because they hadn't gotten _close _to friends.

"I like that your hobby is murdering people".

They'd been at this for _hours. _They'd been arguing- no big deal. Normal occurance. For some reason Matt chose to break the routine. He'd told them- Ordered more like, to sit at the table and play a game. They had to tell what they liked about each other, taking turns and doing nothing but. Matt had sat in for the first few hours, playing referee between them, before going to bed.

And leaving his damn bear to make sure they didn't sneak off.

"I like that your hobby is gaining weight".

"I like that you don't need a hobby to gain weight".

Okay, so Matt was going to wake up with one less brother in the world, if the way Russia was glaring at him was any indication. But damn, that pissed him off! They both began to rise from the table, Russia's eerie fucking 'Kolkolkol's ringing through the kitchen.

Before they could even raise a hand though, Kuma-whatever was up and growling at them.

Stupid bear.

Returning to his seat was rather difficult, but it seemed to settle the little bastard down.

"I like that your foods have no nutrition whatsoever".

"I like that you skip the food and go straight to the vodka".

As if to spite Alfred, Russia pulled a bottle of the searing liquid from his jacket. The blond missed his brief stare at the bottle before he pulled the gap and drank.

They fell into a brief silence, each tired with the prolonged game, and both rather reluctant to face Matthew when he woke. He wouldn't be pleased at all- they'd spent the whole night insulting each other.

Perhaps he should play the game as instructed by Matvey...

"...I like that your hair is like a sunflowers petals".

He saw America look up, startled, and vaguely thought that it was strange for the idiot to take a compliment in such a way.

...Oh, but he had said it, hadn't he?

"Uh... I like that your eyes remind me of Mattie's?".

Matvey? He hadn't quite thought that the boy paid enough attention to his little friend to actually compare something to him.

"...Amerika, you are close to Matvey?".

Alfred tilted his head, in a way slightly reminiscent of Matthew's.

"Well, yeah. He's my brother. Aren't you close to your sisters?".

"We are not as close as before, no". Russia found himself shivering in thought of Belarus. He was at times very thankful that she could never remember Matvey's address, when he did not feel guilty for such a thought.

"Huh. I always thought that Natalia loved you a bunch. Since she's always trying to get close to you and all", America said, scratching at his chin in thought. He needed to shave soon, if that bit of stubble was to be trusted. Didn't want to go around looking like France. Ugh.

Russia flinched a bit, staring at the oblivious fool.

"Well... She is of the opinion that if she... Asks... Enough, I will marry her. I did not know you knew her...", at that, he glanced at Alfred a bit suspiciously.

America blinked at him, grinning. "Oh, yeah. She's told me about that. I visit her sometimes, cuz I think she's lonely, yanno?".

"Why do you not visit Matvey? He is lonely too, da?".

America was startled by his comment again, frowning a bit.

"I'm right by Matt. He can come see me any time he wants- Actually, he needs to get up the courage to come talk to me if he needs me. I can't always see that he needs me", he said, scratching at his growing beard again.

Ivan found himself confused at this show of perceptiveness, America was stupid, was he not?

"Why do you pretend to be such a fool?".

"Who said I wasn't, I'm sitting three feet from a dude who wants to murder me in my sleep right?".

"I never said that".

"You implied it".

"Maybe".

Russia brought the cold bottle of Vodka to his lips to hide his grin at America's indignant sputtering.

"...We totally hate each other".

"Da".

"Good".

"Mm".

America was toying with his coffee, now cold from the hours that had passed. The boy hadn't seemed interested in setting up a fresh brew, so Ivan had left the coffee pot alone.

Not that it would have been for the American brat anyway...

"Ivan... Why do we hate each other?".

The Russian brought his attention back to the other, realizing that the child was beginning to tire. His eyes hung at half-mast, and he was resting his head on his arms, which were folded down on the table.

"Ah... Because you are a capitalist pig, da?".

"Yeah... And you're a commie bastard...", he mumbled, eyes slipping shut in front of his greatest rival.

Rival.

Russia thought to himself, settling back in his chair to sip at his Vodka, that maybe rival did not have to mean enemy. Perhaps America was not so bad... He had intelligence, certainly. More than most nations, apparently.

With his fingers feeling rather numb, and his body rather heavy, he crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his head down, breathing deeply.

_'Matvey will be quite happy to know that I am no longer interested in murdering Amerika in his sleep...'_.


End file.
